


Ain't That a Kick In the Head

by bookmaniac



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coda, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, in which i listen to old timey music and then write a fic around it, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3886792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookmaniac/pseuds/bookmaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sailor said, quote, "Ain't that a hole in the boat?"<br/>Set between SNAFU and Validation. Peggy patches Daniel up after his run in with Dottie and the two make amends for everything that happened during Peggy's interrogation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't That a Kick In the Head

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I actually started writing this back in February. I'm not thrilled with the ending, but at this point I don't know what else to do with.  
> Hopefully the characters are more or less in character, this is my first time writing them, so I can't be sure. Review, enjoy!

_It's just like the fella said_

_Tell me quick_

_Ain't love like a kick in the head?_

 

                Agent Thompson was the first one to recover from the shock of the Chief's death. Within the hour he'd regained control of the bullpen and sent out teams to track down the good doctor and his Leviathan allies. Those who were injured in the blast were sent home, while a handful of other agents hung back to man the phones and help clean up the mess.

                Peggy stayed as well. Since the charges against her had been dropped and no proper paperwork had been filed, Thompson, as acting chief, had been kind enough to give her her job back - albeit under suspension for the time being. It was just as well, she supposed, since a lot of this mess was her fault.

                After much cajoling she'd finally convinced Mr. Jarvis to go home without her; there was little more he could help her with tonight, and despite his objections to the contrary, she could tell the day's events had left him drained.

                "If you find yourself in need of transportation later this evening, please don't hesitate to call," he insisted as Peggy all but pushed him out the door.

                "Thank you, Mr. Jarvis, but I don't think that will be necessary. Have a nice night."

                She closed the door before the butler could retaliate. Rubbing her temple, she returned to the bullpen where a couple men were finishing boarding up the shattered windows. It'd be a couple days at least before they could get anyone in to replace them - one of the drawbacks of being a _secret_ organization.

                Peggy walked over to her desk, which had been upturned when Howard's bloody invention had detonated. She heaved it upright, careful to avoid the shattered glass which covered everything. She set about putting everything back in place - phone on the right, typewriter on the left, file basket in the corner. Her lamp, unfortunately, had been damaged beyond repair in the blast. She'd have to see about getting a new one...       

                By the time she was done cleaning up the glass surrounding her desk, most of the other agents had gone home for the night. Thompson had disappeared into the Chief's office to call Dooley's wife several hours ago and had yet to reemerge. Even now, the blinds remained drawn closed.

                Agent Sousa sat at his desk sifting through paperwork. While they now knew which of Stark's inventions had been taken from the lab, they still had no clue what the device was. Jarvis had been kind enough to provide them with what little notes and information Howard had left behind, but so far nothing useful had come up. They were grasping at straws now.

                She watched as Sousa groaned and rubbed his head for what had to be the hundredth time. Even from behind Peggy could tell he didn't seem well.

                "Daniel, are you alright?" she asked, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

                Sousa jumped at her touch, apparently unaware of her presence. "Yeah, I'm fine, Carter. My head's just killing me, that's all."

                "You should go home, get some rest. I'm sure Jack wouldn't mind, you've been here longer than anyone else today."

                "I'm fine, Carter," he insisted. "Really, I just need more coffee."

                Sousa stood up quickly from his desk. He barely made it three feet before he was suddenly toppling sideways towards the floor. Peggy caught him under the arm before he could completely collapse.

                "No, you're clearly _not_ fine," she grunted, supporting his weight as he tried to right himself. "Here, come with me."

                She led him to the conference room and sat him down in one of the chairs. He didn't fight her. His vision was spinning like crazy; he'd probably fall flat on his face if he even tried to stand up.

                "Care to explain what this is all about then?" Peggy asked, leaning his crutch against the table.

                Sousa shook his head, a motion he regretted a second later when the room tipped on its side. "Your friendly Russian neighbor threw me against a wall earlier. Must have scrambled my brain more than I thought."

                "Yes, there does seem to be a bit of that going around today. Let me take a look."

                Before he could object, Peggy started running her hands over Sousa's head, checking for any signs of injury. Sousa sent a silent thanks to whatever higher power had made sure that the blinds between the conference room and the bullpen were down; If Thompson caught them like this, he'd never hear the end of it.

                He gasped in pain as Peggy's hands grazed the left side of his head. She paused a moment before gently parting his dark hair, revealing a shallow gash just above his ear.

                "Hmm, yes, it appears Dottie got you pretty good." She moved across the room to the cabinet where they kept a small medical kit. "Considering what she did to Agent Corcoran, though, you should consider yourself lucky that it wasn't anything more serious."

                Sousa watched as she started pulling out medical supplies. "You don't have to do this," he told her.

                "I know," she replied. "I want to. Now hold still, this might smart a little."             

                She dabbed at the gash with antiseptic causing Sousa to flinch away with a hiss.

                "Don't be an infant," she chided, and continued cleaning away the dried blood that surrounded the wound.

                They were both silent as she worked. The tension between them was practically palpable, and more than a result of their proximity to one another. They'd barely talked since her interrogation, and then with everything that happened with the Chief... A lot was left unsaid.

                "Listen, Peggy," Daniel said. "About what happened earlier, in interrogation... about some of the things I said..."

                "There's really no need to apologize," Peggy said, finishing with the wound. "I'm more than familiar with how the good cop/bad cop routine works. You and Thompson did an exceedingly good job at it."

                "No, it's more than that," he sighed. "Some of the things I said, about you and Stark, about...us - I crossed the line, let my emotions get the better of me. I'm really sorry about that, Peggy, really I am." He sighed again, this time burying his face in his hands. God, it felt like his head was going to split in two at any moment.

                When he lifted his head again, Peggy was kneeling in front of him.

                "Daniel, look at me." She gently titled his head up, looking directly into his eyes.

                He complied without a word, desperately trying to ignore the shiver her touch sent down his spine.

                After a moment she withdrew her hand from his cheek and stood back up. "Your eyes aren't dilated, so you probably don't have a concussion," she concluded. "I do suggest you get some rest, though, and take these." She tossed him a small bottle of aspirin from the med kit. 

                "Thanks," he said, downing two.

                "I suppose I should apologize too," Peggy leaned against the conference table with a tired sigh. "I lied to you, betrayed your trust. I used our relationship to go behind your back, and while I stand by my actions, I'm sorry you got hurt in the process. I only hope that one day, whatever trust we had between us can be restored."

                Sousa considered her words for a minute before nodding. "You swear you had nothing to do with Krzeminski's death?"

                "On my life," she assured him.

                Sousa nodded again. "I don't think it will take all that long then."

                Peggy smiled then, and it was like a ray of sunshine bursting through an overcast sky.

                "We gonna be ok then?" he asked.

                "Yes, I should think so."

                The door to the conference room swung open then, snapping both Peggy and Sousa to attention. Thompson leaned in, looking haggard but on alert.

                "Just got a call about a disturbance uptown, they think it's one of Stark's." He paused, looking between the two. "Everything alright in here?"

                "Yes," Peggy glanced at Sousa. "Everything's fine. We were just finishing up."

                "Good. You two are with me," Thompson ordered heading back into the pen. "We leave in five."

                Peggy gave a deep sigh. "No rest for the wicked tonight it seems," she said, following after Thompson.

                Sousa grabbed his crutch and followed too, no longer in pain, but definitely feeling like he'd received a swift kick to the head.


End file.
